


A Thousand Fathoms Deep

by Spudato



Series: Great Weiss Shark AU [5]
Category: RWBY
Genre: Faunus!Weiss, Gen, Great Weiss Shark AU, Tumblr Shorts, complication fic, nb!blake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-02-11 11:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 3,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12934581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spudato/pseuds/Spudato
Summary: All the little moments we cherish, made all the sweeter when they're the few we've ever had.This is a collection of short fics published on Tumblr, collected together for your enjoyment.





	1. Teething Problems

**Author's Note:**

> These are short fics collected from my Tumblr over at faunusrights.tumblr.com! These are all set in the Great Weiss Shark AU (in which Weiss is - you guessed it - a Shark Faunus). There's no real focus on shipping, nor plot. These are just little ideas and moments that span a varied timeline.

“You’re a little on the, uh… weird-lookin’ side?”

“… What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yang shrugs, loose and relaxed, even though Weiss can feel something icy and familiar crawling up her back. She's heard all this before, being told her body is weird and unnatural. She'd trusted Yang not to bring it bubbling to the surface again, a shyness that’s buried in her marrow and always lingering in the back of her skull. “Y’know, you’re just lanky! I mean, compared to me, you look like you’re half a breeze away from floating on the wind. Suits you, though?”

Weiss frowns at the compliment, and Yang just shrugs again. “Great Weiss shark, all angles! Very pointy. Like your teeth- which are super cool, by the way.”

Before she can stop herself Weiss runs a tongue along the jagged angles that fill her mouth, the teeth that regrow even if she pulls them out by the roots. She's never thought of them as ‘cool’, not when every smile has the people around her growing significantly paler. “Really?”

“Yeah!” The look in lilac eyes suggests the word _obviously._ “Ruby thinks you’re awesome.”

Weiss can tell the blush on her cheeks is running all the way down her neck, so she makes some excuses and scrambles off to the changing rooms before Yang can make her flush even pinker.

She can’t quite stop herself from smiling like a dope all the way there, though.


	2. It's Probably Mostly Polyester, Anyway

The suspicion Weiss has upon walking into the dorm room is justifiable, she thinks, when there’s a white unmarked bag left on her bed. Maybe it could be Ruby’s, thrown carelessly aside, or something of Blake’s put down for a moment and forgotten about, but that’s only until Weiss realises the bag’s been folded too nicely around its contents for that. Well, that and the fact there’s a tag on the top, torn off a bigger piece of lined paper. So, she takes Mytenaster off her hip and carefully lays at the end of the bed before sitting down, recognising the colourful scrawl on the tag as Yang’s handwriting.

_saw this when blek n i were dicking about in town yesterday. wanted to see the look on yr face but i gotta go sparring w/ nora :(_

_hope its as comfy as it looks!_

It’s a marvel how Yang can test her patience when she’s not even in the room with Weiss, which the Faunus supposes is part of her charm. Still, she curious enough to lift the bag up, unfolding it with a crinkle of plastic before glancing inside.

She really hopes it’s  _not_  what she thinks it is.

* * *

It’s a few hours later when the door into the room unlocks with a click and Yang strolls in. She’s in uniform, though there’s the start of one hell of a bruise across the bridge of her nose, and she’s rolling one shoulder like there’s a kink she can’t quite shake off. Well, that only lasts until Yang looks over to Weiss’s bed, mouth half open with a greeting, before she stops with such suddenness she nearly bowls herself over. 

Weiss is reclined on her bed, re-reading a chapter for a class the following day, and she’s dressed from head to toe in an alarmingly blue-and-white shark onesie. Emphasis on the  _shark_  part, because her face peeks out from under the hood, framed with triangular white teeth as if she’s been eaten alive. There’s even a stubby tail with fins pushed to one side, and the rubber soles of her feet are even designed to look like little sharks swimming about.

Judging from Yang’s face, she’d never expected her to wear it at all.

“Oh my god,” she starts, a grin growing like a sunrise. “Oh my  _god._ Weiss, you look so  _cute_ holy _shit_ -”

Weiss doesn’t even reply, her face growing hot, and she just snuggles further against the duvet as she brings the book up to cover her face. “… It was really quite comfortable…”

She nearly breaks all her ribs not ten seconds later when Yang jumps on the bed, hugging her until she hears her spine crack in four different places. It’s kinda worth it, though - Weiss has never been this pleasantly toasty in her life.

She could stand to lose the tail, though.


	3. What The Hell Is A Gender, And How Do I Eat It?

“Hey, Weiss?”

“Yes?”

Yang isn’t sure how to really approach Weiss about…  _this._ She got as far as saying her name, but after that it’s a bit of a leap of faith. She’d figured that once she had her attention it’d work out, but now Weiss has stopped her writing at the desk and Yang can tell she’s waiting for a followup. So, Yang sits up on her bed and sucks in a breath.

“Like, sorry if this is a dumb question, but, uh… are you a girl?”

There’s a beat of silence, Weiss’s back stiffening, and then she turns her head just enough that Yang can make out the narrow profile of her nose, the sharp edges of her teeth. “What?”

“Dumb question. Sorry.” Laying back down, Yang figures that’s that; they’d just gotten over the  _last_  argument they’d had anyhow, fixed once Blake had chased Weiss outside and settled her down, but there’s a scrape of a chair instead and the soft pad of feet against the hardwood floor.

“No, I mean… what makes you ask that?”

With a groan, Yang rolls over enough to look over the edge of the mattress. Weiss stands below, short enough that the top of her head doesn’t even reach the bottom of the bed, but she doesn’t look annoyed. In fact, she looks very curious, brows knit and a single blue eye bright with questioning. Yang figures that if it all goes tits-up again it’s  _technically_  not her fault, so she shrugs. “Like. I dunno. I get this vibe off you like I get with Blake and Ren. I’ve never heard you call yourself a girl, like… ever.”

Weiss hums, crossing her arms in front of her chest. There’s been jokes before both in and out of Weiss’s earshot, that her gender is  _shark_  and if somebody ever asked what was in her pants there was a pretty good chance she’d just pull out a load of seaweed, but her contemplation is actually giving Yang pause for thought. “You’re not, are you?”

She makes a mumble, and then Weiss shakes her head. “No. I don’t think I’ve ever been much of anything, gender-wise.” Her grin is a touch too pointy for Yang’s tastes, but it’s actually pretty genuine. “I have to ask if there’s a correlation between being a Faunus and not having a gender, though. Blake’s agender and Velvet’s trans and gender… I think she said  _genderweird?”_

Yang doesn’t really know Velvet well enough to understand if that’s a good thing or not, but Weiss is laughing at the thought so it probably is. “At least you have other folks who are the same, though?” Yang ventures, and exhales when Weiss agrees.

“Yeah. I’d… I’d never given it much thought until I came here. I never really got why I was expected to act a certain way.” There’s a grumble that sounds distinctly like  _I’m not how anyone thought I was going to be anyway_  and Yang grimaces, reaching down to ruffle her hair, short and still slightly damp from her last dip in the pool.

“Well, if it makes you feel better, we’re all pretty cool with that. I mean, it did get a little bit fishy when Port said you were a girl and you blanked for ten seconds before you realised he was talking about you. You were just about fishing to get caught out, weren’t ya?”

The puns make Weiss breathe hard, closing her eyes until the moment passes, but when she smiles it’s small and soft. Yang would take it as just being a cover-up, hiding the inevitable groan, but the way her eyes shine show that there’s one whole emotion that she’s holding in. Something warm and gentle, the kind that usually leaves Weiss scrambling to contain it.

It feels so very special to see.


	4. All The Little Pieces Of The Mirror On The Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written on the Velvet fanserver on Discord (which I run!), this is a GWS/canonverse AU in which GWS!Weiss and GWS!Blake meet their canon selves. It is neither light nor fluffy a union.

“It’s funny, y'know? You sound like her. You move like her. You  _are_ her. But you’re two completely different people." 

This Blake isn’t the one Weiss knows, and she’s starting to see that even their core is fabricated of something red hot. The Blake who lives in the dorms with her, who stays quiet and out of sight, is simmering but never boiling. Heated, but never hot. This Blake is all of the latter. 

 "You stand here and you tell me you get it, and that’s just- it’s gross.” They breathe hard though their nose, and Weiss expects smoke. “You’ve had a rough time, I see that. But my Weiss spent seventeen years being told that every part of her is a fucking monstrosity and should be erased. Damage that me and my friends are trying to undo." 

They step back, a full head higher than the Blake Weiss knows. Broad, shadowy. The shape of a person Weiss has only ever seen in fragments. "Faunus like us have to wake up every day for the rest of our lives and know that somone out there would kill us if they had the chance. And knowing that, we gotta wake up every  _day_  and be proud of who we are. Get back to me when that’s a truth you gotta look in eye in the morning.”

* * *

Blake doesn’t know how to talk to this…  _new_  Weiss. She’s used to the prickly human with two bright blue eyes, but this Weiss is blinded in one eye and quiet and walks with an unnatural, gangly awkwardness. 

She’s a Faunus. That’s the especially weird bit - she’s sharp-toothed with slitted pupils and gills beneath her ribs, but the really surreal part is that Blake knows aquatic Faunus were hunted to extinction. Too precious a commodity to protect. That’s what really makes her stick out. 

 "You shouldn’t exist.“ That’s what she says, losing any sense of artful wording to get to the point. The other Weiss was sat peacefully enough in the library, scanning books to see alterations in history, a bone-deep fascination, but now she looks up, eyes hard and jaw locked. That’s another thing - Blake’s Weiss would have snapped back, but this stranger keeps her teeth hidden and words muted until you push her too far. 

She’s  _weird,_ and Blake hates that she thinks of her that way, but it’s true. Same for the  _other_  Blake, the one she kind of envies is a way that makes her stomach ache. 

So they stare at each other, the cat and the shark that shouldn’t exist, the one whose people floated in red waters, bodies sold in parts. The one that should have died a long time ago. 

And then Blake loses her nerve, and she leaves. 


	5. Adrenaline Junkie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicide mention/ideation.

“You’re such an adrenaline junkie, Weiss,” Blake teases after sparring one day, roughed up and bleeding from a scratch above their left eye. They’ve both pushed each other to the absolute limit, Auras flickering like candlelight and threatening to extinguish, but even though Weiss’s legs are shaking from exertion, hands aching from their grip around Gewässer, she’s wide-eyed and ready to go another round. Something inside her won’t calm, won’t turn off, an engine constantly idling and ready to roar. “What’s gotten into you?”

Weiss looks around, swallowing thickly, like she’s seeing everything for the first time again. Or maybe she’s hoping for a threat to appear, just to let her unleash hell all over again. “It’s fun.”

That’s all she offers and Blake just snorts, turning away to open their locker. They’re more interested in a shower and a nap, so if Weiss is hoping to request another few minutes worth of sparring they’re gonna have to call Yang down. Not that it’s advisable; last Blake checked, Weiss’s Aura was hardly two pixels away from the red.

“You know that moment when you think you’re going to die?”

Weiss’s voice echoes through the locker room, and Blake stops. They do. They’re very familiar with it, actually; when your body goes cold and hot at the same time, every muscle tensed like a spring, brain flitting through a thousand ideas a second in last-minute desperation. They think it’s a little unpleasant. “Yeah?”

A glance over one shoulder reveals that Weiss is staring right through them. As if there’s someone behind Blake that she’s actually addressing. “That’s what I like. The ability to decide if I live or die.” She takes in a short breath. “And whether it’ll be the last time I’ll get to choose.”

Is Blake surprised? No, not really. Weiss has whispered similar ideas before: the thrill of looking over a balcony edge at the three-storey drop below, the darkness of the deep-sea water as you float above, the draw of a blade at the column of your neck. She finds a beauty in it, the moment where you can step back or step forward, where a foot of distance can dramatically change an outcome. Most people are scared of the possibilities, but Weiss gets pulled towards it, a twisted curiosity that can’t be sated until she’s dragged over the edge and headfirst into her answer.

Weiss isn’t above tearing herself apart to find the secret of what makes her the way she is, seeing her body as some disposable tool. Some say their body is a temple and Weiss says hers is a block of raw ice, ready to be carved and cut and melted just the way she likes, as needed. Not perfect, still covered in imperfections, but what does it matter when she won’t last the day? Everything’s ticking down.

“That’s fucked up,” is Blake’s retort, but Weiss only grins a toothy grin, and moves past them to stop beside her locker. A click of the trigger and Gewässer shortens itself to half its size, the razor-sharp blades of the dual harpoons sliding into the grip, and Weiss stores it away without another word. Well, until both lockers are shut with a solid click of the locks, that is.

“One day I’ll probably choose differently.” Weiss licks her teeth, glances down at the floor. “Or try to, anyway.”

In their head, Blake idly agrees. Honestly, there’s no force in the world strong enough to stop a Schnee from finding an answer they want, no matter the cost. For now, though, they can distract her. One day, they can hope she’ll forget.

She won’t, but they can hope anyway.


	6. Speaking of Violence

“You see, it’s one of the biggest loads of bullshit in all of Remnant’s history,” Velvet spits, strapping her gloves on tight. “You’ll have to sit in class and hear about Dust changing human history. That it saved their lives. Stopped the Grimm. Helped them found the Kingdoms.”

One of Weiss’s razor-sharp teeth has been loose, lately. Weiss wonders if Velvet will punch it out if she asks. Maybe she’ll do it anyway. “I mean, didn’t it?”

Velvet stands, rolls her shoulders. Sighs. “To them? Yeah, I guess. Thing is, though, it was their saviour and our destructor.” 

Admittedly, Weiss doesn’t know much of any history at all. She never had a tutor, never had lessons. Funnily enough, Beacon’s the first time she’s ever had a real formalised education. Usually that’s reserved for the Hunters who’ve stumbled out of the forests and wildlands, experience trumping booksmarts, but Weiss has a weird mix of both and neither. She doesn’t say anything, though, since Velvet always says what she means to say sooner or later. Never one to be so cryptic.

“Once humans figured out Dust, they killed us. Massacring Faunus left and right.” Velvet’s head bows. “Taking lands they saw as rightfully theirs even though we’d lived on it longer than the Kingdoms have stood. For them it was the start of a new era, and for us, the end.”

She laughs, then, something bitter and dark. Something festering in her throat that she doesn’t dare say. “I sound like my mam, repeating all the old stories. You’ll have to learn them too.”

“Why?”

It’s the wrong answer. Velvet turns on her heel and her gaze is sharp, cleaving right down to the bone. Weiss sees it more often right behind a killing blow. “Because it’s your history too. We’ll figure out your tribe. We’ll figure out your people. And then they’ll tell you all about it. We have to hold on to what remains.”

She moves away then, moving towards the ring with heavy steps that just aren’t quite loud enough to cover the muttering of,  _“Because it’s all that we’ve got left.”_


	7. We'll Burn That Bridge Once We're Standing On It

“See, what carried me through the worst of it was the  _joke potential_. I shit you not, since losing my arm I’m the master of jests.”

Winter doesn’t mean to snort, but she does, propping her prosthetic up on a chair opposite. The cafe they’re in is one Weiss recommended highly, and her taste isn’t misplaced; the coffee is brewed strong and the food is good. That said, Winter’s used to rations that come with whispered warnings about either their texture, smell, taste, or an unholy combination of all three, usually eaten cold in dead of the Atlesian winter when a wait for supplies forces them to save what little Dust they have. Her palette’s a whole lot less refined after that, so maybe she’s not the one to ask about good food in general.

Either way, when she arrived at the Academy in the early morning to try and… well, repair some bridges with Weiss, she hadn’t expected a bubbly blonde to spot her leg (or lack thereof) and strike up conversation with all the gusto of a hurricane.

That’s when Weiss had made a thin smile and offered for Winter and Yang to chat together, and Winter had accepted if only because it was clear as daylight to anyone who looked that Weiss needed some time to compose herself. Years of neglect needed to be overcome today, and it’d take strength both of them would have to summon from deep within.

So, that’s how Winter had wound up in the cafe, but now she’s actually enjoying herself in a way she hadn’t anticipated. The third year student is Weiss’s polar opposite in every way Winter can recollect, but she can tell from the way Yang talks about Weiss that they’re close. Useful, if Winter wants to get a head-start on fixing hundreds of mistakes.

“I’m telling you, you should’ve seen some of them. The ol’ ‘lend me a hand’ trick never fails, but the stories I’ve told people! ‘Yeah, was making a smoothie when I slipped and shoved my whole arm into the blender’. Someone believed me once!”

Yang laughs, loud and bright, and Winter sips her coffee to smother a smile before putting the cup back down. “Once, I looked a man dead in the eye and said I cut my leg off to bait a Nevermore. Got into all the gritty details of it, too. Said once it landed I hopped over and strangled the damn thing to death.”

Yang just grins. “Did you add the bit where you beat it with the soggy end?”

“Of course. Told him that the only reason they couldn’t stitch it back on was because I’d made a real mess of the thigh.”

Yang practically chokes on a laugh, tossing her head back so hard she nearly brains herself on the window behind her seat. “Oh man! I can see that now… the medics running up to you as you flail this limb around-”

“Screaming and covered in my own blood.”

“Yeah, yeah! Oh man… gotta say, though, your blade makes you look badass as  _fuck_.” Yang tilts her lead at the prosthetic approvingly. “Mine is just a Metal Edition arm.”

Winter nudges Yang’s leg with her left foot, shaking her head. “Maybe to you, but other people don’t see it that way. Neither will your friends.” At that, Winter exhales slowly. “They know the price for it. You think they’ll ever see it as anything less than amazing?”

There’s a frown, and then an absent nod, and Winter fears she’s pushed too far when Yang smiles again like the dip never happened. “Of course not! That’s why they’re the best friends I’ve ever had!”

That’s when Yang’s gaze hardens a touch, looking over Winter’s face like she’s spotted something that wasn’t there before. And then, slowly adds, “Especially Weiss.”

Winter swallows thickly, and then picks up her mug like it’s a toast to something. “Especially Weiss.”

At least she knows that if she fucks this all up, Weiss will have her team to watch out for her. Just like she should’ve had in that huge empty mansion, all those years ago.


	8. A Merciless Type of Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: this is from Tribelands AU, which is actually technically also Great Weiss Shark AU, but like... an extension. Prequel. Look, it's gay and doesn't fit anywhere else, so it has Dustbun.

 

It's easy, so easy, to submit to Weiss. That's what Velvet learns the first time she's bested in a spar, when the chill of the late Jarran autumn nips at exposed skin and the tips of fingers and toes. As Velvet has long suspected Weiss is no match for her when it's a contest of strength, but Weiss has a remarkable ability to change the tides no matter the odds, finding even the barest openings and exploiting them mercilessly, bruises blooming to the surface or blood staining roughspun fabrics without hesitation.

Velvet doesn't even see it happen, really. One moment she's on her feet, dodging the wicked point of a harpoon that's caught bigger prey than her before, rolling across the grass and hitting air with every solid punch when Weiss darts out of the way like snowflakes in the wind, and then the harpoon hooks around one ankle and her back hits the earth like she's a lump of wood, knocking the air out of her so thoroughly it takes her a second to breathe again.

Not that it matters. Weiss's foot lands on her chest to keep her down and the harpoon's blade is pointed right at the sweat-slicked hollow of her throat, each jumping breath threatening to press right to the metal. The sun is blocked out by Weiss's head, hair loose and wild and catching in the breeze, and when Velvet manages to squint to make out her eyes, one blue iris is almost rendered black by a rounded pupil, staring her down and daring her to move, daring her to give her a reason to sink her blade right into her neck.

"Submit."

The phrase would be 'yield', usually, and Weiss knows this because she's said it before, often when Velvet has an arm about her throat or has her pinned down the way Velvet is now. But Velvet doesn't contest this, because that would imply she didn't know what Weiss really wanted. She was never one to speak so obviously.

Weiss's heel grinds down in the wake of her silence, pressing hard against Velvet's sternum. She must be able to feel her heartbeat radiating right up her leg, a steady drum sounding off in her chest like a battlecry, and when Velvet says still says nothing the blade comes to rest right against her jugular, icy cold on heated skin. _"Submit."_

Maybe she could get out of this. She's fought her way from worse situations before. The thing is, though, Velvet doesn't actually want to. So, smiling, she shuts her eyes, shivering against the cold ground, the grass that tickles her bare calves, and does as she’s asked.

"For you, Weiss? Always."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [I Know That Love Exists (It's Asleep with the Fishes Down In Atlantis)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15120656) by [themanlymanman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themanlymanman/pseuds/themanlymanman)




End file.
